The Rory
by Maloreiy
Summary: SPOILERS for AYITL! Logan Huntzberger had one final play, and it was called 'The Rory.' Only he screwed everything up. Now his playbook is empty and he still needs to find a way to convince the love of his life that she was all he'd ever wanted, and that she—and their daughter—are still all he's ever wanted. (#OdetteIsAFabrication) S&R: CONSTRUCTIVE REVIEWS WELCOME
1. Chapter 1

**SPOILERS FOR A YEAR IN THE LIFE!** Do not read further unless you've seen the entire season, all the way up to the Final Four Words!

 _A/N: Someone please steal this idea. Please, steal it. Run with it. Make it fabulous. Until someone does, here's my take…_

 **Summary: ((SPOILERS for AYITL!)) Ever wonder why they made such a big deal out of mentioning Neil Patrick Harris? Or why 'Odette' (like 'Patrice') is a French name? It's because Logan Huntzberger had one final play, and it was called 'The Rory.' Only he screwed everything up because getting pregnant was not part of the plan. Now his playbook is empty and he still needs to find a way to convince the love of his life that she was all he'd ever wanted, and that she—and their daughter—are still all he's ever wanted.**

* * *

Springtime in London was dreary business. As if it hadn't rained enough over the interminable winter, the water just continued to pour down from the sky, the inhabitants all cheerily exchanging their winter wardrobe for the fashionable warm weather raincoats.

The blonde man stood at the balcony doors wearing an expensive cable-knit cashmere sweater, staring out at the drops that slanted in sheets across the landscape outside. He was so used to the sight he didn't notice it. No, his attention was drawn inward.

Logan Huntzberger was in a quandary.

Something had gone wrong. He was a master at carefully crafting plans. He was a master at carefully adapting plans that needed to change. He'd employed both in the plan he'd come to refer to in his head as "How Logan Got His Rory Back." He was clever, clever enough to come up with a better name for his plan, but then it would sound too calculated, and he was in enough trouble as it was.

He'd given her plenty of time. Time, space, whatever she thought she needed, he gave it to her. She needed to have a no-strings-attached casual affair, he gave it to her. She needed to set all the terms and boundaries for their relationship-that-wasn't-a-relationship, he let her. She needed to pretend she didn't love him and didn't need him; that was much harder to give her, but he let her think it, _temporarily_. And every time she went back to Connecticut or New York or wherever her career was taking her, he let her go, because he knew that she was going to come back.

He didn't believe in fate and he didn't believe in soul mates. He came from a world of arranged marriages of convenience, where being madly in love with your spouse was the height of indecency, gauche and terribly unrefined. No, he didn't believe anything so romantic as two people who were meant to be together. But _if_ he did, it would be him and Rory.

He'd known it when he'd proposed, nearly ten years ago. He'd erred in his choice of timing, choosing to piggyback his proposal onto her graduation celebrations. She'd been overwhelmed, uncertain of her future, and he could see now that she'd felt he'd backed her into a corner. He could probably count on his hand the number of times he'd made a mistake he actually regretted. If he ever bothered to do so, he wouldn't be surprised if every single one had to do with Rory.

When she came back into his life, it wasn't an accident. He'd known where she was, what she was doing. He made sure their paths crossed. He charmed her, he seduced her, he pulled out every single trick in his arsenal to get her back into his bed and into his arms. And it worked just a bit too well. She insisted their relationship was physical, casual, and of course, secret.

At first it amused him to play along. To hear her say to her mother that she was staying with her friend 'Didi,' while she was naked on his heather grey sheets.

But he soon realized that his hold on her was still only tenuous at best. She refused to drop that boyfriend—Patrick, or Parker, he could never remember his name without looking at the file with the background check he'd had done on him. Pablo was of no consequence, because he wasn't a threat to his plan. It was Rory's intransigence at not ending a relationship she was clearly unhappy with, and not giving Logan any type of commitment beyond stolen weekends, that was the real problem.

When the thing with 'Odette' had come up he'd just added it to his plan. He could tell it grated on her. She wasn't the cheating kind (never mind about Phillip, who he knew was just a strange prop in her life that she was reluctant to let go of). He'd told her once, a long time ago, that she wasn't the casual relationship kind, she was a girlfriend. And he couldn't be a boyfriend. He'd been wrong. And apparently she'd been wrong, too. He found himself in a position where all he wanted was for her to acknowledge him as her damn boyfriend, whereas she was content to pretend they were just ships passing in the night, several times a year.

But she wasn't a cheater. How she managed to go as long as she did without insisting they stop earlier, he chalked up to the force of their attraction—and yes, love, dammit—for each other.

When she asked about Odette, he tried not to answer, she was nobody. But Rory always came to a conclusion. And Logan acknowledged that he'd used those tendencies of hers to mire them both into the fabrication. Never mind that the woman's voice calling to him was just his sister visiting him in London. Never mind that he had to be quiet so as not to wake his niece who he was babysitting. Everything that carried a hint of sneaking around aroused her suspicions and confirmed what she knew of as fact in her own mind.

After his father's untimely remark about his engagement to Odette (and Logan was certain that his father, the master manipulator, knew full well what was really happening and was trying to push things to a head), he really expected Rory to start to break down. He waited for it. He was sure it was coming. There'd be a tearful call in the middle of the night. Or she'd show up on his doorstep in the rain (because, London). She might even have a big gesture, even though she knew that was kind of _his_ thing, or maybe even _because_ she knew it was his thing. He almost smiled, thinking of Rory trying to top his grand gestures.

He'd had a plan, for Pete's sake! (Peter, that was the boyfriend's name!) The ring was on the top shelf in his closet, inside of a big box labelled 'Cookbooks from Mom that no one is ever going to use.' (His mother would be horrified to see herself blasphemed that way, as if she ever cooked a day in her life.) And when she came to him, when she finally admitted that what they had was too big to let go of, he was going to acknowledge it graciously, let her have her big moment, and then sweep her off her feet.

When she'd called him several times in one night, frantic and distressed, he was sure that this was it. It was time. His heart had raced with anticipation of victory. He wasn't too ashamed to admit that he was seeing wedding invitations flashing before his eyes. He would finally have her completely.

But no, she still wasn't ready. And he was getting so tired of waiting.

So he'd had to resort to the grand gesture after all. He called up the boys, and they took her out on one last adventure. And in the end, though he even gave her an alternative option, it was her who came to his bed.

When she asked if he was really going to marry Odette, he wanted to come out with it all right then. But he still had a tiny bit of pride. He didn't want her to come to him just because all the other obstacles were conveniently out of the way. He wanted her to fight for him, the way he'd been fighting for her all these years. Just say she didn't want him to marry Odette. Say she didn't want to be kept on the side. Say she wanted him all to herself. So he prevaricated. And she didn't choose him.

But still he waited. Because he knew her. He _knew_ she loved him. She had to know that he loved her, even though she never let him say it.

So here he was staring at the rain and wondering where it went wrong. He should have heard from her by now. There should have been a half-dozen misdialings, followed by apologies. At least one drunken voicemail. Even a lovely, tasteful engagement card that tried to prove she was moving on when all it would prove was that she was still thinking about him.

He was going to have to fly back to the States.

But staring out at the rain, he had this awful foreboding that he was either going to be too soon, and she still wasn't going to be ready. Or he was going to be too late.

* * *

Springtime in Stars Hollow was lovely. It was warm enough that he barely even needed the light jacket he had on. The quaint little town that Rory and her mother loved was shiny and clean and welcoming, like a bunch of little elves had been hard at work all night long.

He ought to have checked into the Dragonfly Inn first. Through his sources, he'd known that Lorelai had just opened the second building of the Inn right in the heart of town. He'd had an assistant from his father's company book the reservation so that his name wouldn't tip off any busybodies, of which he knew this town had several.

But he was hyped up from the long flight, from setting foot back onto the soil of his home country, and he needed a glimpse of his girl. He rather thought his previous plan was shot, and he was going to have to come up with a new one on the fly. So he needed to get a feel for the lay of the land.

Logan headed straight for the newspaper office, knowing as he did that if he meandered or stalled that word of his presence would reach her before he did. Small towns, they were adorable, if sometimes frustrating.

He walked at a fast clip, his writer's eye appreciating the colors of the blossoms on the trees and the fresh breezes that blew the occasional petal across his path. Petals and a pig, apparently, he laughed as the porcine creature trotted past.

When he reached the building that housed the Star's Hollow Gazette, he thought again how he was thankful for small towns. There she was, at the editor's desk, framed in the picturesque window like no big-city editor ever was.

Her hair was in her work-ponytail, swishing back and forth as she talked animatedly to someone just beyond his view. She loved to write. He knew she'd once aimed higher than a small-town newspaper, but it was a perfect fit for her. She loved this town, she loved that newspaper, and it gave her plenty of time to work on her book.

She looked happy. Glowing, in fact. The thought that maybe she didn't need or want him after all settled hard into the pit of his stomach.

Then she laughed, and the smile returned to his face, because that was his Ace.

He'd hoped to reach her in time for lunch, but from the big Luke's bag on her desk, it was clear she intended to eat at her desk. He figured he'd wait until her client left and then make his entrance.

But when she pushed back the chair from her desk, it was clear she intended to at least walk her guest out, and it was only seconds later when the big heavy door swung open.

A man came out, too-long unkempt hair hanging in his eyes and obscuring his face. He wore dirty jeans, an obscure band T-shirt and an open flannel shirt over it. Logan's mind brought out the name from his memory the same instant he heard her laughing protest, "Jess!" like she'd just been told a joke.

But Logan didn't have time to think on how familiar they were, or what Jess was doing bringing her lunch. His gaze was locked onto Rory's dress.

It was somehow both professional and fun with large flowers dotting the crisp white background. The short flowing skirt should have ended somewhere just above her knees but in the front it fell a few inches higher than the back.

It took him a moment, staring at her rounded belly, to process what he was looking at. It took him another moment to run the math and calculate it backwards to somewhere last fall and a charming little bed and breakfast that Colin had sold for a profit almost immediately after his spontaneous purchase.

And when it all clicked—why his plan had gotten all shot to hell and why he hadn't heard from her—he finally looked up into her stricken eyes.

* * *

 _A/N: I'm not a Gilmore Girls writer. I'm a Dramione writer. I'd love to write Gilmore Girls, but they are too much for me. So witty, clever, so much pop culture, so much fun and whimsy and heart. I just don't think I can do it. But I came up with this idea after watching the Revival. I'm convinced Odette is a smokescreen. There has to be a reason why even Paul gets a face, and Odette is just a mystery. Logan doesn't even act like he's trying to keep a secret. He goes out on his balcony to have a private conversation but doesn't even close the door? He gets a late-night call and doesn't even leave the room where his bride-to-be is sleeping? He evades most of her questions and let's Rory draw her own conclusions. And Mitchum mentioning Odette was far too casual, and with far too much "I know something you don't know" for it to be as straight-forward as they were trying to make us think it was._

 _So here is the start. I've got a couple of chapters written in my head since last night. (I almost got up in the middle of the night to write them down.) I'll publish those (possibly even today), just to get it out there, and then see where the story takes me. Just a warning, this might turn into something very short, or it might be abandoned. Or it might get adopted out to whoever wants it. And if you like this idea, please, by all means steal it and write your own. #TeamLogan4Life. #OdetteIsAFabrication_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Gilmore Girls, not the characters, the places, and possibly not even the plot, since I'm convinced everything I'm writing is absolutely canon._

 _A/N: In case any of you were wondering, the Summary and the Title are referencing the show How I Met Your Mother, where (spoiler alert) one of the main characters, Barney, stages a pretend engagement to Patrice in order to convince the girl he really wants, Robin, that they were meant to be together. It's silly, complex, and highly improbable, but it works. And the first thing I thought when I was watching the Revival was, "He's doing The Robin." So, anyway._

* * *

There were a lot of things Logan was feeling right in that moment. Shock, awe, fear, confusion, just to name a few. But what stood out, what really seemed to just hit him over the head so hard he was seeing blinding, flashing lights, was the profound sense of hurt.

She'd hurt him before. His heart had broken when she'd refused his proposal. He'd felt sliced open when she let him walk away at that bed and breakfast without even trying to stop him. But he'd never before felt this devastating shattering sensation like everything inside of him had exploded in tiny shards of pain.

He wasn't used to giving away his feelings on his face, but she must have seen something because she turned to the man hovering protectively beside her and said, "Jess, thank you for the lunch, I think you should go now."

Logan remembered this guy as being a total dick. If he wasn't so shell-shocked, he might have bothered to feel something about the way Jess's hand was resting on Rory's back, and the way he was being glared at as if Logan were the interloper.

Ignoring Rory's request, Jess's tone was caustic as he called out to him, "She doesn't need you, Huntzberger."

Logan didn't even bother responding, the man was completely inconsequential. All that mattered was Rory and him and this monumental secret she'd been keeping.

"Jess!" she asked him again, her voice pleading, "please just go!"

He did leave, but not without a glare that made it clear glaring was one of his specialties. And as his parting shot, he yelled behind him, "I'm going to get Lorelai!"

"Jess!" Rory chastised him, knowing she was talking to his back. "Just leave it alone. I can handle him."

Logan didn't even wait until Jess was out of sight. His voice was low and sarcastic as he said, "Oh, I'm just something to be handled?"

"You know what I mean," Rory sighed tiredly. Logan didn't miss the slim hand that she rested lightly on her stomach. Where she'd seemed to be glowing and happy only moments before, Logan could see the tell-tale signs that she'd been under stress. There were lines on her face, darkness under her eyes, like she wasn't sleeping well.

"Come inside." She reentered the building and motioned him in. "Esther and Charlie go home for lunch, we can be private here." As she put the key back into her pocket from locking the door behind her, she turned and brought her eyes up to his. There was a wealth of emotion in that look, but Logan was too filled with his own thoughts to sift through what she might be feeling.

"Not even a kiss for the father of your child?" he asked, knowing it was hurtful, but unable to stop himself.

"Logan," she protested quietly, dropping into the nearest chair and looking away from him again.

"How could you do this to me, Rory?" he wondered, the hurt spilling over in his voice as he began to pace agitatedly in the foyer.

She raised her eyebrows. "You mean get pregnant? There are some who would argue, and have, actually, that _you_ did this to _me_."

"Don't be cute," he said, bitterly. "How could you hide this from me? How could you think for one second that I didn't deserve to know that I was going to be a father?"

She shook her head, torn. "I was going to tell you, Logan."

"When?!" he shouted at her, the suddenness causing her to flinch. "When I heard it from my mother who heard it while playing cards that the girl I'd meant to marry had gone and gotten herself pregnant and the father had just run off leaving them dry? When I saw the birth announcement in the papers that Emily Gilmore is a great-grandmother? When? When were you going to tell me, Rory?" He was so angry. So hurt. She almost thought she could see the pain spilling out of him in waves.

"I'm sorry," she said. But of course, it wasn't enough.

He couldn't resist adding the little jab. "When you needed money?"

"Logan!" she scolded him. "You know me better than that."

"I thought I did!" His voice was still loud. "But more than that, Rory, I thought you knew who _I_ was. I thought you knew that you could trust me, that you could rely on me, that I would be here for you and for whoever else might come along. That I would never, ever abandon a child, _my child_!"

"I did know that, Logan. I _do_ know that." She fiddled with her hands in her lap, taking a breath like she was about to launch into a speech.

But he wouldn't let her. "You took that decision away from me! My child would have been born, and I wouldn't have even known! As if I was just some trust-fund brat sowing wild oats and scattering by-blows across the countryside!"

"No, Logan! Like we were a couple of consenting adults who made a mistake. I would have told you in time. I was just waiting…" her voice trailed off, unsure.

He scoffed. "Waiting for what? What sign could you have possibly needed to see to reassure you that _now_ is the time to inform Logan Huntzberger that there's a child with his DNA?"

She sighed again. "I was waiting to hear that you and Odette had married."

"What?" he turned, exploding on her again. "What difference could that have possibly made?"

"I just thought—"

"You didn't think!" he accused her.

"I didn't want to ruin your dynastic plan!" she finally shouted back at him.

"My _what_?"

"Your dynastic plan. All the plans your father and your family had for you and for your French heiress. I didn't want to get in the way of it. I didn't want my pregnancy to throw a wrench in the works."

He just looked at her, surprised at how he could still have enough of his heart left to be hurt by the casual way she discussed him getting married to another, and that she'd truly had no intention of stopping him.

He finally conceded to sit in the big chair across from her desk, and he put his head in his hands for a moment while Rory's last words echoed in the air. When he raised his head, he corrected her, softly, "Odette is nobody."

"You may not love her, Logan, but she still deserves your respect and not to be suddenly confronted with her husband's love child when she's supposed to be planning a wedding."

"I _do_ love her!" he said forcefully.

She was taken aback by that unexpected declaration. Her face was stiff as she was trying not to let that statement hurt her, and told herself repeatedly not to react. She didn't have any right to claim his love entirely for her own. It was ridiculous for her to have comforted herself with the knowledge that he didn't feel anything for the woman he was going to marry.

" _You_ were Odette!" he practically shouted in her face, past the point of being able to inform her with any finesse.

"What?" On the heels of the previous statement, she was having trouble processing what he was trying to tell her. Her mind snatched onto the only logical protest she could make. "I'm not a French heiress!"

"You've been to France. Twice," he said, inanely, as if that somehow made the assertion more clear.

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind, and wondered if perhaps it was actually she that was going crazy. She'd heard pregnancy hormones could cause all kinds of mental disruptions. And what did it say about her that her first hallucination was the father of her child tracking her down and calling her his affianced French heiress?

Contemplating this potential turn of events, she almost missed what he said next. "And you like to wear those mannish pantsuits."

"What!" she exclaimed again, not sure if she should be offended or not. Did she dress like a Frenchwoman who had inherited a lot of money and business holdings? Was that a thing?

"The French like to wear those slim pantsuits with the straight lines." The casual wave of his hand was dismissive as if the fact were unimportant to the conversation, which might be true, tangled as it was.

"How is—what could that—" Rory was at a loss for words. She'd gotten sidetracked. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then snapped out, "Explain, Huntzberger." They both knew that she didn't mean about French styles of dress.

He cocked his head and just gave her that same poker-face that always infuriated her, and so she broke the silence before it had even gotten a chance to settle in. "I'm _not_ Odette." Her voice dared him to contradict her.

His response, with the tiniest smirk that sent shivers down her back, reminding her of a thousand other more pleasant times, was, "I'm not Didi."

There was a beat while they both contemplated the truth of that remark.

"That doesn't make any sense!" she protested, even though in a convoluted sort of way it did. "That's too Slytherin, even for you!"

"You wanted to keep it a secret! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, remember?"

She didn't have to answer, remembering the words she'd uttered many times, particularly when she was feeling insecure or when she was trying to remind herself not to grow too attached. It wasn't a big deal if it was only on occasion, she'd told herself. No reason to feel guilty if it didn't mean anything, she'd reasoned. Don't get used to it, you were both going separate ways.

"So when my parents were pressuring me about dating, I told them I was seeing Odette. A French heiress who occasionally wears mannish pantsuits. It started there, and then it escalated."

She was truly shocked now. "And you never said anything to me? You let me think I was just some bit-on-the-side and a dirty cheater?"

The little stab that she didn't have any trouble thinking of _him_ as a cheater was so small in context that he almost didn't feel it.

"You _were_ a cheater, Ace." His words quietly reminded her that even though Odette wasn't real, Percy or Pierce or whatever his name was, had been a real person who'd thought he was in a committed relationship. For two years, every time they were together, she was cheating.

Her mouth opened and closed at that, unable to formulate a response.

All she could come up with was, "You lied to me."

"Are we going to count up the lies, Rory? Even the ones by omission? I feel like I'm going to win that one."

"I was going to tell you!" she asserted once more, uselessly, knowing her lie was far more deceitful and far more hurtful.

Logan didn't answer. He looked at the face of the woman he loved, and one thing kept going around and around in his head. "Dammit, Rory! You didn't believe in me. You were just going to take her and go."

She didn't deny the charge, the guilt already starting to settle in on her shoulders, and zeroed in on a different part of his words. "What makes you think the baby will be a 'her'?"

"Isn't it?" he returned, wryly.

There was a silence while Rory contemplated giving him the news this way. She had a tasteful little card with the sonogram results printed on it, in the box of memorabilia she'd been saving for when she finally told him. Doctor's checkups, the pregnancy test, of course all the copies of the sonograms. The box was small, as there wasn't much to tell yet, and she was determined to let him know before there was a need for a bigger box. But her poorly chosen plans were up in smoke now, anyway.

"Yes," she admitted, and watched his eyes grow bright with unshed tears.

"Dammit, Rory," he said again, softly, shaking his head like he just couldn't believe it. "I should have been there. I missed it all. You made me miss it."

"I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to think clearly around the rollercoaster of emotions that was whipping him around. There was pain and shock vibrating in the air, but through it all there was one thing that was absolutely clear.

"We're getting married," he announced.

"What?" Her expression was flabbergasted, though he didn't see how his words could be a surprise.

"Before this baby comes, we're getting married. I'm not letting her be born out of wedlock."

"Out of wedlock? What is this, the 1800's? Is there something wrong, something innately inferior about being born out of wedlock?"

"You know there is, Rory. In our circles, if she's ever going to have the respect she'll need—" He stopped when he saw the look in her eye. The look that reminded him that she was a Gilmore, and that she didn't need to have been born a Hayden in order to achieve the numerous goals she set out for herself.

"I won't get married just to give my baby a name! She has a name. She's going to be a Gilmore."

He changed his tactic, knowing what he said next could determine their entire future. "I've always wanted to marry you, Rory. I never wanted you to be some side-fling, but you seemed so set on minimizing our relationship. I thought if I waited long enough, you'd finally realize that we are _good_ together! That we make each other better. I know you have made me a better man than I could ever have been without you. I want you, Rory. You and me. And the baby makes three. I want you both. I didn't even know how badly until right this very minute."

Walking over to her behind her desk, he continued, "There are very few things I can say with absolute certainty but these things I know." He ticked them off on his fingers. "That my niece is the most beautiful girl in the world, and she has about three months before she gets dethroned." He grinned at her. "That you are going to be the most wonderful mother. And I'm going to at least be a better father than my own was." She rolled her eyes at that, acknowledging that it wasn't hard to be more paternal than Mitchum Huntzberger.

He reached over to cup her face in his warm hands, noting that just the touch made her eyes already well with tears. She still felt something very powerful for him. He still had a chance. "And I knew long before I knew this baby—our baby—existed, which means at least more than an hour ago, that I cannot live without you, Rory Gilmore."

He planted a chaste kiss on her lips, as the water spilled over her eyelids. Then he let her go. "Forty years in space, Ace. You had to know I was always waiting for you."

Free of his arms, she sniffled and reached for a tissue from the box on her desk, her hand shaking as she blew her nose. He'd clearly flustered her.

He observed her in silence as she tried to regain her composure and then said in a quiet tone of voice that was almost surprised, "I sure missed you."

She noticed that his eyes had recovered that measure of warmth she was used to that made her feel like she was going to fall right into him, safe and secure and loved. She'd missed him, too. So much.

It was all too overwhelming for her. "I can't—just right now—it's not—" She blew her nose again, and waved her other hand helplessly, trying to convey what she couldn't express in words.

Logan sighed. "I know." He stood up to leave, feeling exhausted. They'd both just been run through the wringer. It was unfair for him to demand an answer of her now, and it was unlikely she'd give it. "Listen, I'm staying at the Dragonfly, the new one."

She gave him a funny look through her watery eyes. Then she asked, "How long?"

"However long it takes, Ace. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

 _A/N: I mostly really wanted to get this idea and these chapters out there, because I'm tired of hearing a couple of things after the revival. I'm tired of hearing people say that Logan is a terrible person for cheating, and therefore Rory should be with Jess. Rory was a cheater, too, and by that logic, she doesn't deserve Jess, either. And don't forget she slept with that wookiee, cheating on Paul (and Logan) even further. Rory's not a saint. And Logan is not the devil._

 _And when I hear people say how Logan is Rory's Christopher, and so then Jess is going to be her Luke, it makes me very irritated. Are we thirteen year old girls? Can we come up with anything triter than this idea of a cycle that keeps churning things out exactly the same? Even in The Wheel of Time, the point of retelling the same story is to show how it is DIFFERENT. Rory is not a sixteen year old, scared and alone, with no support. Logan is not a flighty teenager who doesn't want to take responsibility for his own actions. If there is any purpose at all in ending the show when Rory gets pregnant, it's to show how differently the same situation can be when the circumstances around it are vastly different, when two ADULTS who love each other cope with a life-changing circumstance._

 _Anyway, thanks for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting so quickly. I'm surprised at how fast this was received and appreciated. I think I've got one more chapter in my head (but I don't know when I'll have the time to write it), and then…well…I don't know what happens then. I'd be up for suggestions if anyone wants to throw them my way. Send them by PM if you do._


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